


Watching Buildings Burn

by MythologyGirl



Series: Omega Jason Todd Week 2019 [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha Jim Gordon, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Falling In Love, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Jason Has Him Wrapped Around His Finger, Jason Todd Rare Pair Challenge, Jim Gordon Has It Bad, Long-Suffering Jim Gordon, M/M, Nesting, Omega Jason Todd, Omega Jason Todd Week, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Scenting, day three, intersex omega
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 18:02:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20050249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythologyGirl/pseuds/MythologyGirl
Summary: Commissioner James Gordon never expected his life to change so drastically after finding a wounded crime lord bleeding out in an alley. A crime lord that also happened to be an omega and a billionaire's supposedly dead son.





	Watching Buildings Burn

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to [alphaofallcats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphaofallcats/pseuds/alphaofallcats)! I'm sorry that I keep sending these so last minute!

It began, as most things do in Gotham, with an explosion. The blast was strong enough to shake the city to its very core, probably sending tremors as far as the city line. Billows of thick smoke raising towards the starless, smog coated sky. A standard night.

It was near weekly that some random warehouse would go up in flames thanks to one costume manic or another in their desperate, final attempt to kill Batman before being dragged back to Arkham. <s>(A temporary solution to a rising problem as the inmates never seemed to stay inmates for long.)</s>

Truly, there was nothing special about propriety damage, especially when most of the buildings were so rotted they were one gentle breeze from toppling like a bad game of Jenga.

Something, however, felt off about this night's particular impromptu demolition. And it had nothing to do with the person responsible not having a permit for it. No, there was something uneasy in the air that made Jim’s skin prickle and his mouth run dry. The years he spent honing and attuning his instincts on the force were screaming and if there was one thing he knew he had to do, especially in a place like Gotham, was follow his gut.

When he stumbled upon the menace of Gotham’s underworld in a dank alley of one seediest parts of town, he wasn’t overly shocked. When he noticed the Crime Lord’s hands were dyed red from the blood gushing from his neck and stumbling drunkenly from blood loss, posture sagging with fatigue, Jim thought he was seeing things. The overwhelming, sour stench of distressed omega burned and clogged his nose. His hackles raised.

_"Jesus Christ."_

The omega must not have realized he was there, which was a testament in itself to how out of it the Red Hood must have been, as his hulking lurched in surprise, unsuccessfully trying to catch himself on the wall. A low, pained whine escaping him as he fell into a pile of garbage that had accumulated from months of careless littering.

The aging alpha took a moment to examine the twisting body as the other man tried and failed to scramble back to his feet. It was then that he realized the iconic red helmet that Gotham’s direstest criminals had come to fear on site was cracked open on side, revealing a single eerily green eye set in a disturbingly young face. A tuft of white hair clinging to the omega’s forehead, making his already pallid skin look even paler in the poor lighting.

Against his better judgement, Commissioner Gordon inched slowly towards the omega. He tried to even out his own scent, to make it as soothing as he possibly could. He wasn’t succeeding if the way the crime lord curled in on himself with a gurgled growl that was more concerning than threatening when crimson bubble over his lips and spilt down his chin.

“I just want to help you,” Jim said as he held up his hands to show he meant no harm. When he got within arms length of the injured man, he squatted down so his was about eye level with the other, hoping that it would ease him more than Gordon’s failed attempt at calming pheromones.

It didn’t.

The second the police commissioner stretched out his hand to try and get a better look at Red Hood’s neck wound, the omega’s scent spiked with fear and agitation. His body weakly lunging forward to snap at Jim’s fingers. It was only thanks to the wounds making the younger man too weak to make it more than halfway, that he was able to keep all his digits firmly attached to his body.

As it was Red Hood uselessly flopped back down onto the dirty gravel. More than likely his wounds were all going to get infected with whatever germs festered within the streets of Gotham with how much he seemed to be unintentionally rolling in the filth. His dirt covered hands once again going to cover the deep slice on his neck, trying to halt anymore blood from seeping out.

“Listen, Hood,” Gordon leaned back his face contorting into a stern look and, despite it making him a little queasy, adding a little bit more alpha demand into his voice. He didn’t like using his secondary gender to make others bend to his will, yet at this rate, if he left things the way they were going, the young omega would bleed out. Passing away in a cold alley that smelled more like piss and vomit than any place should have any right to with only a stranger as company. At least he knew the injured man was listening with the way he seemed to perk up at tone, despite his lack of focus in his eyes. “I swear I just want to help you. Please, just let me help you.”

He didn’t know what did it. Maybe it was simply that Red Hood was too tired to keep fighting or maybe it was the please, but finally, after seemed like an eternity of waiting, the omega nodded. Jim didn’t wait a single second longer before scooping the shivering crime lord into his arms, grunting as the full weight of the body tried to throw out his back. He was never more grateful to have continued boxing lessons down at the local gym in the slightly nicer part of the city, otherwise he wouldn't have been to lift the ridiculously tall, muscled body at all. He could already feel the fatigue settling in to his arms. The other man had to weigh at least 200lbs, nothing like what anyone would picture an omega to be.

It wasn’t until they made it out of the darkened alley and under the flickering light of the dented lamppost Jim had parked under that the man noticed that his passenger had passed out on him. Staring from the car door, to the man’s face, back to the car door, he felt a dawning sense of dread.

… He had locked his keys inside the vehicle.

_”Dammit!_

* * *

He had pulled up to Dr. Thompkins’ clinic with a broken window and what could have been easily mistaken a recently deceased corpse as company, if it weren’t for the near silent, shallow, stuttering breaths that come from it. It was safe to say the beta doctor wasn’t impressed when the police commissioner came bursting through her doors just as she was about to leave. She was even less impressed by the trail of blood that was left in their wake contaminating her floors.

Normally, he wouldn't come down to the free clinic. Not only did he not generally travel to the narrows on his down time, but thanks to his job he was able to afford a good healthcare plan for himself and his daughter, Barbara. There was never usually a reason for him to be here outside of any case he might have had in the past that lead him to these doors. But this was a delicate situation.

He couldn't take the young omega in his arms to one of the higher end hospitals uptown since he doubted he had health insurance, not to mention the fact he was also a Crime Lord wanted by GCPD for several misdoings ranging from arson to murder. Leslie Thompkins' was his only choice.

She was as discreet as she was good at her job. That is to say, you wouldn't be able to pull anything from her that she thought would be detrimental to her patients recovery or an invasion of their privacy unless she had absolutely no other option. Gordon had learnt that the hard way when he once tried to apprehend a suspect just out of surgery in his younger days. <s>He could still feel the phantom pain on the back of his neck where she had given him a scruffing.</s>

Still, the aging beta hushered Jim into a small room and instructed him to place the person he was carrying down on the operating table giving the alpha minimal biting remarks about how Gotham never let her rest. As gently as he could Jim laid the omega down on the stiff table and had only a second to take in the pale face and blueing lips before he was unceremoniously shoved aside.

Dr. Thompkins’ turned to glare at him as he stumbled back a little making him hold his hands up in surrender much like he had earlier in the night. Her glare only seemed to intensify as she nodded her head slightly towards the door. “Get out. It’s going to be difficult enough dealing with these injuries alone without some alpha hovering over my shoulder stinking up the space with their protective pheromones.”

Jim, despite being minorly offended at the implication he smelled, beat a hasty retreat back out into the waiting room. He tried not to think too much about the doctor calling him out on being protective of the man on the table. He didn’t even want to think on why he was.

But here, sitting in the hard plastic chair that was so small his knees were basically drawn up to his chest uncomfortablely, Commissioner Gordon had nothing to do but think. There was just something about the omega that seemed so familiar to him. It nagged at the back of his mind like one of Riddler’s annoying riddles.

Dark hair with a white streak, green eyes, and a muscled build that would put more than a few alphas to shame, Jim just couldn’t think of anyone he knew that would fit that description. Leaning back, with his head bumping against the wall behind him he thought back to the way Red Hood smelled. There was something there overrun by the scent of rotting fruit and sour milk that the fear and exhaustion had brought. It was a scent he knew he had smelt before, but he couldn’t quite place it.

Jim didn’t know how long he was trying to solve the puzzle that was Gotham’s newest criminal when Leslie Thompkins’ came storming from the surgery room her lips pulled down in a hard line and her eyes blazing. Her scent spicy and thick with anger than he had ever thought a beta could reach.

The older woman snapped her teeth, stopping the alpha from saying anything, as she let out a particularly vicious growl. “Where the hell did you find a dead boy?”

“What..?”

Leslie plowed on ignoring him, to wrapped up in her own fury and distress. Confusion colored her words, painting a bleak picture. “Why do I have _Jason Todd_ on my operating table?”

At those words everything came together with enough force that Jim felt a migraine forming. The familiar scent he couldn’t place now clicked into place. The omega had smelled vaguely like the little scamp that Bruce Wayne had adopted what felt like so long ago. The kid that always had a quick word and a laugh every time Jim went to one of the Wayne Galas.

The alpha could feel his body freezing in horror at the thought. The Red Hood was Jason Todd, there was no doubt, but how does a dead kid come back to life?

**Author's Note:**

> So, I didn't completely finish it, but I figure I would post the first part of it. Hopefully, it won't take too long to get the next part out because that's were all the fluff and stuff happens.


End file.
